Burning Bridges
by Eirian1
Summary: The sight of the Golden Gate Bridge was perhaps magnificent, but once realisation of the silence inside hits Teyla, nothing will bring her peace until she returns to the Pegasus Galaxy.


Author's disclaimer: I do not own _Stargate Atlantis_ and its associated characters. MGM does, for which, for the most part, they have my utmost respect. No copyright infringement is intended in writing these stories.

My deepest respect also goes to the talented actors that brought to life the characters we see in _Stargate Atlantis._ My portrayal of the characters here is based on my perception of the work of Joe Flanigan, Rachel Luttrell, and Christopher Heyerdahl. Without these people and those that came before them, there would have been no _Atlantis_ as we know it today.

With the exception of personal interpretation and expansions, any extracts from existing episodes of the series remain the copyright of the story and teleplay writers.

Other assorted original characters (i.e. those that don't really appear in the show) are my own creation, and they, along with the original material presented here are © Eirian Phillips 2009.

Characters and events are purely fictitious, and any similarity to anyone living, transformed, dead, cloned or in any alternate universe or timeline is entirely coincidental.

**Stargate Atlantis**

**Burning Bridges**

"I do not doubt that it was a great feat of engineering, John," Teyla said, gazing out at the bridge once more, "simply that…"

Her voice trailed off as she realised the sudden silence that had been haunting her.

"That?" Sheppard said, but his prompting barely reached her, and as he reached out to touch her arm, she pulled away; excusing herself with what she was certain would be an alarming manner to her friends. Much as she did not wish to worry them, under the weight of the emptiness that all too loudly now twisted the silence inside her, it could not be helped.

"Teyla?"

She heard first Sheppard, and then Ronon, call out to her as she hurried from the balcony back into the city. She was heading toward the brig.

** **

He growled softly on an outward breath, his hands clasped between his slightly parted knees, leaning on his elbows against his thighs; lost in the absence.

"Open it!"

Perhaps it was some residual grasp of instinct as a shield against the insidious silence that had him rise to his feet as her angered voice cracked across the room, and the echoing shots of the slatted force-field lowering spat further curses in his direction.

The door slid aside at last and she marched to a halt in front of him, her manner fearless.

"What have you done?" she accused.

For barely a heartbeat, as he blinked at her, incredulity fluttered around the edges of his confusion, until he realised that she felt it too; cursed by her share in their kindred DNA to the same maddening sense of loss.

Mirthlessly he put back his head and laughed.

** **

She could have accepted any answer from him but the one he gave. His laughter pushed her beyond reason and before she knew what she had done she flew at him, her hand already filled with the hilt of the knife she kept concealed in her boot.

Even before she was close, he had her strike blocked with just enough force to be effective without jarring the blade from her hand. He was playing with her, and that angered her further, spurring her on to repeat the attack, drawing strength from somewhere deeper than she knew existed within her.

She struck high, and though he turned the blade aside, the side of her fist connected with his shoulder, and her ferocity drove him back. His visage lost all semblance of the amused curiosity it had, and a glint of fire flashed across his catlike, golden eyes.

"Get out!" Teyla growled as she sensed the marines behind her raise their weapons as Todd began to move in a more aggressive fashion. When they hesitated she repeated, "Out!"

** **

He felt the change in her before her next attack; felt it in the whisper against his otherwise empty mind, before the knife in her right hand came unerringly toward his heart.

For a moment, barely as long as it took to draw breath, he considered acquiescence, instinct again perhaps, that demanded of a male his life if such was Her request. Then he remembered that although she had once _acted_ as his Queen, she was far from it. The surgery had removed the likeness of Wraith from her diminutive form, though her tenacity and her current ferocity gave him cause to doubt that, at least in part, the nature of Wraith had been removed with it. Still, however, she was not his Queen, and he was not her Commander – that fell to another than he.

In the final moment he brought his hand up to force the blade away from its path, his palm striking the side of her hand – hard. She growled at him, and gave no pause before she came at him again.

This time he was unwilling to simply defend, striking out with a clawed hand, he raked a blow across her shoulder, tearing cloth; first blood. How far could he push her?

** **

She rolled with the blow to her shoulder, growling away the pain, and turned full circle to slash at the cloth of the ridiculous coverall they had forced him to wear. The hilt of the knife caught against the weave, and she risked losing her grip. Instead she turned in toward his body, keeping herself below his centre of balance and using her momentum to roll him across her hip.

The look of surprise on his face as he hit the floor was quickly replaced by the burning fury of arrogance bested. As she regained her own equilibrium he flipped himself back to his feet and rushed at her, grasping her shirt and lashing out with his feeding hand as he drove her back against the slatted bars.

She didn't fight, instead used the time to regain a firmer grasp on the blade, angling it back slightly in her grasp before, as she collided with the bars, becoming winded by the impact, she swung the blade up to press against the side of his neck as his hand settled dangerously, holding her in place.

"You would not _dare_!" she hissed.

** **

"Would I not?" he growled, flexing his hand against her chest, even as she pushed against the blade at his throat. "Do you think you are fast enough to end my life before I take yours?"

"Would you care to take the chance?" she spat back.

"Aaah, Teyla," he said, the hard consonant of her name cracking against the tension between them, "for far too long have you walked on the fringes of our world, neither one thing, nor another; flirting with emotions you do not understand – cannot accept."

"You know _nothing_ of which you speak!" she raised her head, signalling defiance of his words.

"I know more than you care to believe," he purred, his anger cooling toward a simmering frustration. "I feel… and name that which you refuse even to acknowledge; hide behind the guilt of what you have done."

"I have done nothing!"

Slowly he reached up with his free, left hand and grasped her wrist, applying pressure until the blade fell slack against his chest, to clatter to the ground between them. Against the pressure of her straining in opposition to his insistent push, he brought her hand first to her side, and then twisted it behind her back as he pulled her away from the bars, still not releasing her from the threat of his feeding.

"Time to decide… my Queen," he snarled mockingly, "which bridges you will burn, and on whose side. You. Stand."

** **

"Are you sure you're all right?" Sheppard asked softly as he came out to join her on the balcony that overlooked the Golden Gate Bridge. She didn't turn, simply nodded, eliciting a further query from her friend. "What happened in there?"

"It was nothing," she said at last on the outward breath she had, it seemed to her, been holding since she left the brig. "A disagreement, that is all."

"Look," Sheppard said, taking her gently by the shoulders, but firmly enough to make her choose to either fight or turn to face him. She did not wish to fight with her friend so turned and looked up at him. "I know that's not the truth, but that's okay. You've been through a lot this past year and now, here you are, on Earth where everything is different. I understand you have issues, but—"

"I must return to Pegasus, John," she said, and cut him off.

"And I get that, I do, but—"

"You do not understand," she told him…

_"I know more than you care to believe," Todd purred, and she felt his anger cooling as his mind brushed hers, impressions of twin moons, the strength of a tearing wind blowing against them both, and she realised he had taken the memory from deep in her mind, where she had tried to lock it away. "I feel… and name that which you refuse even to acknowledge; hide behind the guilt of what you have done."_

_~and you know what they do not~ ~do not~ ~do not~_

…"this is not my place, and there is peril yet for me to right in the galaxy of my birth. Take me home, John, _please!_"

He sighed and, nodding, slipped his arm across the top of her shoulders, stepping up to the rail again and bringing her with him as he stared out across the water toward the bridge.

"It really _is_ a feat of engineering, Teyla, you have to admit that," he said softly.


End file.
